


Teamwork

by utsu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, First Kiss, First Meetings, Future Fic, Let Daichi Live 2k14, M/M, Oral Sex, Riding, Rimming, coffee shop AU, i'm so sorry about this, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utsu/pseuds/utsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no I in team (but there is in rivalry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teamwork

Sawamura Daichi is a simple man. He likes his coffee without any creamer, carries around five notebooks all in the same color for each of his classes, and enjoys spending a few mornings by himself in the only coffee shop on campus. It’s the perfect atmosphere to actually get some studying in, with tables large enough to spread his books and his legs out. They play music overhead that isn’t too loud or too quiet, but is rather soothing; especially to someone like Daichi, who has a neighbor that’s obsessed with recorded bird audio and plays it almost constantly throughout the day.

He comes to the shop often enough for the workers to know his face and serve him without even having to ask, which is always equal parts refreshing and awesome. He sits in the same seat by the same window and orders the same drink every time and has only recently realized how boring that sounds. Sometimes it feels cool to have such a concrete routine, though.

On this day a breezy Monday morning, Daichi sits in his seat, by his window, with his black coffee steaming in front of him; he only has a single textbook open in front of him that he’s only paying minimal attention to. It’s the beginning of the semester so he really isn’t in the mindset to be worrying about his grades or doing his homework in a timely manner, though he tries to keep focused and finish reading this chapter.

His eyes are just beginning to skim the second paragraph of the second page when he hears more than sees someone plop heavily into the seat across from him, their momentum almost upending them out of the chair as it balances for a flicker of a moment on two legs before falling heavily back to all four. Daichi looks up with a raised brow, eyes trailing up a red shirt to find a guy smirking at him with narrowed eyes; an expression one might find on someone who’s stepped out of a dark room and into direct sunlight.

Daichi wonders if this guy needs help.

“Uh, can I help you?” he asks, eyeing the way the stranger’s lips only quirk higher. There’s a light blush on his cheeks and he reaches up to run a hand through his messy hair, almost as though he’s self-conscious. His posture is a horrifying slouch that has Daichi unconsciously adjusting his own shoulders.

“Can I get you a drink?” the guy says, and his eyes do something strange and Daichi thinks he may have been trying to wink. Daichi stares at him for a moment in confusion before he glances down to his coffee, still steaming and gloriously hot, and back up to the stranger’s eyes.

He says, “I think I’m good.”

The guy shrugs his shoulders, his eyes never leaving Daichi’s. In fact, he sits there and just continues to watch Daichi read his textbook for a long enough time that Daichi starts to feel a little uncomfortable under his gaze. He wants to ask this guy, again, if he needs help with anything, but he also doesn’t really want to be rude. This is his relaxation time and this guy is blatantly throwing a wrench into it with his weird questions and his smirk and that strangely direct gaze. And why is he blushing? Daichi feels a headache coming on.

“I’m Kuroo, by the way.” He suddenly says, making Daichi glance up at him skeptically. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“…Sawamura,” he says, his expression a blended mixture of confused and pained. This is by far the most awkward conversation he’s ever experienced. “Sawamura Daichi.”

When Daichi expects him to move forward with a new topic, he’s sorely disappointed. Instead, Kuroo just nods, his smirk falling into more of a smile while one of his hands comes to rest on the tabletop, fingers tapping. He seems pleased by something that Daichi is not awake or caffeinated enough to understand, so instead of pressing on it, he just lifts his coffee to his lips and takes a drink. The heat of it is almost as pleasing as the bitter taste of it washing over his tongue, down his throat. He hums into his cup, closing his eyes.

Kuroo makes a noise, something Daichi doesn’t really pay much attention to, but when he opens his eyes and looks back up at him Kuroo’s blushing even more and he looks shifty as a pigeon. He sits upright, swallows, and nods his head, almost as though answering some private, internal question of his own design. He glances back to Daichi and runs another hand through his hair, his grin curling at one corner.

“So, you like coffee.” He says, and there’s something about the quirk to his lips that tells Daichi even Kuroo knows this was an awkward transition, but that he’s going to stick with it regardless.

“Yeah,” Daichi responds, sighing at the realization that he’s probably not going to get any reading done, at least not right now; not when he recognizes that he’s sort of interested in what Kuroo Tetsurou has to say, maybe because everything he says is so random and unexpected, and maybe because of the way his lips wrap around the words and Daichi can’t stop staring.

He’s so distracted by Kuroo that he can’t even really remember what he’s been reading, anyways.

So instead of just sitting there, Daichi decides to switch things up a little and ask a question of his own. “Do you like coffee?”

“Sometimes,” Kuroo smiles. “Mostly I like tea.”

“Tea’s good,” Daichi admits, nodding. “Any preferences in tea, then?”

“Honey,” Kuroo says, immediate. “I put honey in everything.”

Daichi really, really isn’t sure if he truly wants to know how much stake to put in “everything” but before he can swallow the words down they’re out there between them and he’s watching Kuroo’s eyes gleam with something wicked and promising that finally makes Daichi swallow, though too late for him to take the words back.

“Everything?”

Kuroo’s smile is as sharp as razors and his eyes flit quickly over the line of Daichi’s heavy shoulders, his muscled chest; “ _Everything_.”

Kuroo’s eyes are back on Daichi’s but something about his smile, about the way his fingers stop tapping and his focus doubles, makes Daichi think that maybe Kuroo is contemplating things about  _honey_ and Daichi’s  _body_  that he cannot even believe. It’s hard to tell, though, because after a moment Kuroo’s posture relaxes again, releases its tension, and he’s back to just smiling goofily at the tabletop. Had Daichi been seeing things? Was he being ridiculous or had Kuroo just insinuated that he would gladly cover Daichi’s body in honey and lick him clean?

Daichi had been right about that headache, it’s here in full force, starting somewhere behind his eyes. It may have been the kindness of Kuroo’s lips when he genuinely smiled, or the way his fingers tapped nervously every time Daichi humored his conversation, or maybe even just the fact that Kuroo’s voice, however awkwardly given today, was somewhere between fire and ice and kept managing to make Daichi feel a little breathless—either way, there is something about Kuroo that catches Daichi and holds on to him.

The headache is a pain but for some reason, he blames it on the reading; calls it eyestrain.

Daichi glances over to the clock above the worker’s station, just making sure that he hasn’t been sitting here for hours with this guy—because honestly it sort of feels like he has and even stranger than that is the fact that Daichi honestly doesn’t think he’d even  _mind_ —and sees that he still has a half hour before his next class. Kuroo, following his lead, glances over to the clock and does a double take.

“Woah, is that the time?” he rushes to gather a bag that Daichi hadn’t even noticed him carrying, slides it over his chest and puts his hand back on the table, fingers tap, tap, tapping nervously as he seems to debate something internally. Eventually he bites his lip and seems to disband the idea, turning back to Daichi with a small smile and sharp eyes, the contrast of which throws Daichi off and makes him feel sort of like prey.

“Hey, it was nice to meet you. I’ve gotta run—I’ve got class.” Kuroo points towards the front entrance of the shop with his thumb, sliding away from the table and up to his full height with ease—a lot more ease than Daichi had been expecting, especially considering his rough landing into the seat when he’d arrived. Daichi finds his eyes trailing up a lot more of Kuroo Tetsurou than he’d been expecting, his mouth popping open a little at the sheer amount of him. Sitting in front of Daichi with his slouched over posture, shoulders curled inward and neck bent forward, he hadn’t seemed that much taller than Daichi himself.

But now Daichi can see just how  _wrong_  he’d been; Kuroo stands in front of him with no slouch whatsoever, his legs long and lean in a pair of black jeans, his shoulders wide and strong and thrown back almost confidently. Daichi swallows. 

“But hey, let me buy you that drink next time,” Kuroo Tetsurou says with a smile, trying and failing once again to wink properly—Daichi realizes this time that yes, he is definitely trying to wink—and then he’s tucking his hands into his pockets and heading out of the shop, quiet like a wraith. Daichi watches him walk away until he can’t see him at all anymore and wonders what in the world has even just happened.

 

✧

 

The next morning when Daichi finds himself in his same spot, with a new cup of the same kind of coffee, part of him is expecting Kuroo Tetsurou to show up in the seat across from him again. He lays out his textbook and moves his coffee to the edge of the table so that his textbook won’t bump it, and leans against his fist in order to read more comfortably.

He hears the bell chime over the entrance and unconsciously glances up, wondering if he’ll see Kuroo standing there with his goofy grin on his face. It isn’t Kuroo, but rather a girl in a sweatshirt about three sizes too big for her with her hair piled on top of her head. Daichi hears her order two extra shots of espresso and sympathizes with her.

He goes back to reading, biting a little at his knuckle just out of boredom. The music overhead is classical today and with it comes the sounds of the employees making drinks and small talk, as well as the every now and again shuffle of university student feet as they come in, go out, or idly walk around. Because of this, Daichi does not pay much attention to the pair of sneakers that come to a squeaking stop right at the edge of his table, nor does he question the fact that they are such a bright shade of green he almost has to squint to look at them. His eyes trail over the next line in his textbook, not really picking anything interesting out, and the voice belonging to the sneakers with the neon highlights comes from over his head.

“Is that seat taken?”

The voice isn’t familiar to him so he doesn’t look up, merely gestures openly to the seat across from him with a nod, as if to say,  _it’s all yours, pal_. He waits for the guy to slide into the seat with a drink or a pastry or maybe even to unload a backpack onto the other side of the table. Instead, there’s no movement at all.

Curious, Daichi glances up from his textbook, chin still perched neatly atop his supporting fist, and finds one of the prettiest guys he’s ever seen smiling down at him. He has the fairest, softest skin Daichi has ever seen and he looks like he knows it. With one hand resting on his hip and the other gesturing towards Daichi’s lap, he repeats himself a little more insistently.

“Is  _that_  seat taken?”

Daichi stares at him and doesn’t blink, even when he slowly glances down the length of his arm, off the tips of his fingers, to his own crotch and back up to the guy’s shining brown eyes. Daichi thinks that there’s no way in hell this guy isn’t joking and starts to laugh, a little uncomfortably. When the guy continues to stand there, though, his expression still bright and shining and far too self-assured for Daichi to handle this early in the morning, his laughter stutters to a stop in his throat and he chokes on it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, rubbing at his throat and glaring balefully up at the brunette like it was his fault that Daichi had just choked on his own saliva. The stranger seems unperturbed; he lets his gesturing hand fall to rest at his side and his eyes soften a little when he glances over Daichi’s features. Daichi thinks with that expression—toned down and gentle and surprisingly genuine—he is actually quite beautiful. He wants to reach out and touch the skin of his cheek, feel if it’s actually as soft as it looks. Daichi’s eyes trail over the guy in a cursory glance,  _purely_ out of curiosity and certainly lacking in interest or attraction, even if he is tall and built strong and his fingers are lithe in a way that Daichi might have dreams about later. Some part of him recognizes that he kind of wants to touch this guy while the rest of him is going up in flames with this revelation.

Okay but he doesn’t necessarily want to touch  _all_  of him, just his soft cheek and maybe the strong cord of his neck, the delicate swipe of his collarbone—it would be for  _science_.

“Oh,” the guy laughs, and his tender expression dissipates and leaves behind something arrogant and overly expressive that leaves a sour taste in Daichi’s mouth. “I’m never anything  _but_  serious when deciding where to position my ass.”

Did he say dreams earlier? Nightmares. He’s going to have nightmares.

“Who  _are_  you?” he says, instead of what he really wants to say, which is:  _what the fuck_. He’s also incredibly hyperaware of the fact that he can’t remember the last thing he read from his textbook just a few minutes ago and is now definitely thinking about what it’d feel like to actually have this guy sitting in his lap. Daichi shakes his head, glancing back up at the guy with an incredulous expression because he looks completely unaffected. And also sort of like he still thinks that Daichi is going to let him just up and sit on his lap.

“Oh!” the guy says, acting like he’s completely forgotten that he’d opened with a lewd pick-up line and not a proper introduction. “I’m Oikawa Tooru. It’s a pleasure to meet you! How about that offer, huh?”

His acting is so spectacularly terrible that Daichi feels his eye begin to twitch, his fingers closing a little tighter around his mug of coffee so that he doesn’t accidentally reach out and wrap his hands around this guy’s neck. What  _is_  it about this guy that makes him want to put his hands on him?

Wait. He still doesn’t mean that in a sexual manner—this time he  _definitely_  means it violently. Except those two things aren’t  _always_  mutually exclusive, are they? Not with restraint and safety parameters involved. And, Daichi thinks, it’s surprisingly easy to picture Oikawa Tooru tied up, or tied down, and from there—absolutely not.  _Absolutely_ not.

Daichi smiles around gritted teeth and cheerily says, “Seriously.  _No_.”

Oikawa visibly deflates, pouting. He sighs, turning and sitting delicately on the lip of the seat across from Daichi, though he still looked relatively unbothered. He rests his chin on his hands and blinks at Daichi from across the table and Daichi is certain, one hundred percent certain, that some day in the future he is going to make Oikawa Tooru cry.

“Well, this is fine too.” Oikawa says, grinning. “What’s your name?”

Daichi gives him a skeptical look, partially pained and mostly exasperated. How is he expected to keep up with this guy? He shifts to a new topic as easily as taking candy from a baby, unfazed.

“Sawamura Daichi.” He responds, which he thinks immediately afterwards is probably a mistake. Is he going to regret this? That is rhetorical. He knows he is going to regret this.

Oikawa’s face brightens like a fireworks display, his smile showing straight pearly white teeth. His eyes do that softening thing again and Daichi feels like maybe they’ve teleported to another universe where he likes being under that gaze, where he wants it to never look away from him. Daichi’s eyes go wide at the thought and he brings his coffee mug shakily up to his lips. Some of it sloshes over the sides of the cup in the lapse of his control, spilling down onto his university sweater and seeping through to touch his skin. It’s not hot enough to burn, though, so he isn’t too worried about it.

Oikawa, on the other hand, is. He sees the shaking of Daichi’s hand and gets this abruptly worried expression on his face and promptly  _leaps_  across the table to try to steady his wrist, lest he burn himself further.

Good intentions, terrible results.

Oikawa does manage to grasp Daichi’s wrist but the moment he realizes that he’s touching Daichi his eyes go wide and his cheeks flare pink and he jerks forwards a little as if he’s lost his balance. His hand flicks against Daichi’s wrist and he watches almost in slow motion as Daichi’s entire mug of steaming coffee overturns onto his lap.

Daichi has never been more familiar with the phrase  _slow burn_  before.

He leaps up from his chair with a high-pitched noise he will  _not_  call a squeak, patting and rubbing at his pants to try to somehow cool the area down, with friction, because that makes so much sense. The coffee takes a while to seep through his jacket and then his jeans and boxers, but eventually it finds its way to the goal and he feels like he’s never going to walk again, let alone be able to perform.

Oikawa is there in a blink, having pushed himself out of his seat and raced around the table with all the blood drained from his face. He slides to his knees so that he’s eye-level with Daichi’s crotch, uncaring of onlookers, and then his hands are joining Daichi’s in rubbing and patting at said crotch. Once Daichi realizes that this is happening he backs off, eyebrows raised and face poised in shock.

“ _Seriously_?” He barks out, laughing a little because he literally cannot believe the extent of Oikawa’s determination to touch his crotch. It’s so unbelievable he’s not actually even that  _mad_  about it; he’s just plain astounded. “You are seriously using this moment to cop a feel?”

Oikawa looks up at him and his cheeks are slowly starting to regain their color and then some. He sputters a little, tripping over some of his words and huffing arrogantly at the same time, a mix between excuses and self-assurances that end up sounding amazingly like a broken down train coming into station. It’s enough to make Daichi laugh again, though Oikawa takes it as Daichi laughing  _at_ him and flushes even more in embarrassment.

“No!” He squeaks, tearing his hands away. “Ah, no, I actually wasn’t. That’s not actually a bad idea, though.” And Daichi literally sees him contemplate, sees his hands slowly come up and prepare to aim right back towards Daichi’s crotch again, and he thinks  _where did this guy even come from?_

He takes another step back, just in case, as one of the employees comes over with a wad of napkins, offering them to him with a shy smile. He thanks her graciously, apologizes for the mug that lies broken on the ground and the mess he’s made. Oikawa, still on his knees in front of Daichi and looking torn, offers a few apologies of his own. The moment the worker meets Oikawa’s eyes after picking up the pieces of the mug, she’s a goner. She puffs up and blushes, stutters out reassurances and rejects his offer to pay for the mug, even when he insists. Daichi watches all of this with wide, unfathomable eyes and a mouth popped open with incredulity.

 _Unreal_ , he thinks.

Oikawa lumbers back to his feet, dusts off his knees and turns back to Daichi with a shy smile.

“Well,” he chirps, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. His hair is standing up all over the place, though Daichi hasn’t seen him run a hand through it at all. “This has been fun.”

“Yeah,” Daichi answers, and then:  _what?_  His crotch and thighs have first-degree burns and Oikawa had introduced himself by implying that he’d wanted to straddle him and Daichi is agreeing that it’d been fun? Hand full of soggy wet napkins and a heart full of indecision, Daichi watches as Oikawa picks up a bag Daichi hadn’t even noticed him bring in, slinging it onto his shoulder and clutching at the strap. He remembers Kuroo, then, and the bag he’d been carrying that Daichi  _also_  hadn’t noticed—he doesn’t think much about this now but he probably should have, considering how telling it is of how attuned to these two idiots he already is.

When Oikawa turns back to Daichi he’s got that self-assured grin on his face, the one that makes Daichi want to shake him, but his eyes are flighty and tender when they finally meet his again.

“It really was a pleasure meeting you. We’ll see each other again!” and in a blink his expression shifts back into one of overconfidence, almost like he’s looking down his nose at Daichi, which, he realizes, he definitely can do because he is  _also_  taller than Daichi. He remembers Kuroo Tetsurou again and the long lean lines of him walking out the front of the shop, puts the image next to Oikawa’s retreating figure and swallows.

“Wait!” he calls out, not really knowing what he plans on saying, if anything at all. Oikawa glances over his shoulder, curious.

“I don’t even  _know_  you.” Daichi says, but it comes out sounding like a question. His eyebrows scrunch up, his mouth a startled frown as he realizes that he kind of  _wants to_. Oikawa flashes him an electric grin, pulling off a successful wink that automatically reminds Daichi of Kuroo Tetsurou, third time’s a charm, and Oikawa flaps a hand at him.

“You will,” he says, an enigmatic smile curling the edges of his lips while something sharp and dangerous flits across his eyes. There’s something powerful there, something unstoppable, and it makes Daichi feel a little weak. When Oikawa steps through the door and heads out into the world again, breathing an audible sigh even Daichi can hear, he turns back to his chair and wipes the rest of the coffee up.

Then he plops down in the chair and rests back into it, staring listlessly into space like he’s just been planted in an entirely unfamiliar culture and expected to act normally. Daichi is willing to admit if only to himself that with that last parting expression Oikawa had looked  _enticing_ , but he’d also looked like this meeting had gone exactly how he’d planned it.

That, Daichi thinks with a hand still full of wet soggy napkins and a wet and soggy crotch to match, is so not okay.

 

✧

 

Sawamura Daichi is a simple man. He isn’t particularly fond of change, especially when in regards to something that he really, really enjoys. Like, for instance, relaxing comfortably in his favorite coffee shop with a steaming hot mug of coffee he carefully places near the edge of the table on a stack of napkins and as far away from his crotch as possible.

He’s not fond of change but he doesn’t avidly avoid it, either. This creates a certain kind of ironic harmony in his life because, well, change doesn’t avidly avoid him, either.

In fact, it comes to him almost every morning in the form of either Kuroo Tetsurou or Oikawa Tooru. A few times it has actually come at him simultaneously, with he and his mug of coffee completely out of their league on one side of the table and Oikawa and Kuroo on the other, silently and enthusiastically sizing one another up.

Daichi isn’t an idiot; he had figured out pretty early on that Kuroo and Oikawa are into him. With Oikawa it had been immediate, because he’d wanted to sit in his lap. With Kuroo, it’d taken him a few months because he had trouble getting the words out properly whenever he was around Daichi.

He knows that it’s only when he’s around Daichi, too, because he’s heard him order his own drinks and converse with the employees of the coffee shop multiple times without any strange phrases or disjointed questions. Daichi alone is lucky enough to incur those wonderfully charming characteristics.

Today, on this fine Friday morning before a class in which all he has due is a paper he finished days ago, Daichi sits sipping his mug of coffee and halfheartedly listens to the conversation across from him.

“I’m not saying that they aren’t  _real_ ,” Kuroo says, taking a moment to gnaw into a bear claw pastry that Daichi is almost entirely certain that Oikawa purchased for him, though he’s still trying to hammer out the details of how that’d come about. “I’m just saying that maybe, if they exist in another dimension, they aren’t real in  _our_  dimension.”

Oikawa opens his mouth as if to reject this notion but freezes, pointer finger poised in the air over his slice of lemon cake. Daichi watches in amusement as he seems to take a mental step back and puzzle over this, even going so far as to stroke at his chin. Finally, when Daichi is just about to tell Kuroo that he’s a lost cause and will never agree with him on anything (without realizing that this would definitely show that he is not only listening to their conversation but is  _interested_  in it) when Oikawa makes an agreeable sound in his throat and bobs his head in understanding. “Ya know,” he says, smiling over at Kuroo, “I’ve never even thought of it that way.”

Kuroo, having expected some sort of resistance from Oikawa since that’s literally all he’d been getting all morning from the brunette, turns and looks at Oikawa like he’s Christmas morning. Daichi feels a smile curl its way over his face and ducks down closer to his textbooks, pretending like he’s far more interested in his education than the strange and theoretical reckonings of two fellow young adults on whether or not aliens exist.

The almost lovey-dovey air between the two of them is refreshing given that just a few months ago it had barely been anything less than animosity. In the fated incident, as he’s calling it, Daichi had been cramming for an exam and listening with half an ear as Oikawa explained the sunset outside when Kuroo approached their table. It had been the first time that Daichi had been approached by both of them simultaneously, and with a single look at both of their expressions he’d realized immediately that a fuse had been lit somewhere and it was only a matter of time before the explosion.

As it turned out, he was fairly decent at defusing metaphorical bombs. It took them only two weeks before their animosity got more annoying than it did amusing, so Daichi put his foot down and shared some choice words with the both of them, fingers pushing into the skin of either of their shoulders. So  _what_  if he’d had to stand on his tiptoes to manage it comfortably, he still got his point across loud and clear.

Kuroo told him what he lacked in height he made up for in personality. Oikawa had agreed, saying that he “was a tall personality.” He’d punched the both of them in their sides and stomped off after that, but the next morning found them both waiting at his spot for him, his coffee freshly brewed and two pastries waiting for him. An easy slight to forgive.

Ever since then, however, the two of them have seemed to get along almost too well. There is a lot of looking into one anothers’ eyes and smiling at each other and casual  _touching_ that, okay, sort of make Daichi a little jealous. Absolutely no pun intended on the term “little.” Still, the fact that they are now friends and are blatantly working together to try to butter him up to the both of them is a far more attractive option than the both of them fighting over him. It’s simpler this way, too.

Not that he’s thinking about accepting either of their offers to sleep with him, because those are definitely things that have happened and things he is not yet ready to deal with. Not that he’s been thinking about it, though.

“I can get behind that, yeah,” Oikawa is saying, and he rests his chin on his perched fist. He grins up at Kuroo and flicks his eyes over to Daichi, almost questioningly, waiting to see what Kuroo thinks. Kuroo seems to agree, though neither of them seems to realize that Daichi can see everything they’re doing. He sighs, and then he just waits for it.

He doesn’t have to wait long before they both turn to him at once, both perching their elbows against the table and resting their chins on their hands.

Kuroo says, “Hey, Sawamura, what do you think?” and Oikawa adds, “About  _aliens_.”

Daichi chews his latest bite of his blueberry muffin, takes his time in swallowing it down.

He says, “I honestly don’t know.” And watches Oikawa’s eyes flicker in disappointment, Kuroo’s cheery expression waver. He feels his heart pound a little harder and he doesn’t even question how attuned to them he is, won’t even realize it until months later when they’ve all got actual history to back their present, and not just these shots in the dark attempting to rope him and his affections into their courts.

He says, “I think it’s really interesting thinking that aliens might exist in another dimension, for sure. But I also think they exist in ours. I mean just the other day they found microbes on the surface of Mars, so.” He takes a delicate sip of his coffee and doesn’t look at either of them, his cheeks pink. He pretends it’s from the coffee.

Kuroo and Oikawa both straighten, expressions brightening as their hands come down to rest in their laps. Oikawa’s left hand reaches over, incredibly casually, and carefully latches onto a tiny bit of the fabric of Kuroo’s cargo shorts. Kuroo doesn’t jump, but it’s a close thing. Instead, he glances over to Oikawa with flushed cheeks and smiles.

Daichi glances up at them over the lip of his coffee mug and sort of wonders how in the world he’s gotten here, to this place, in this moment, with these people.

He’s not particularly upset about it.

 

✧

 

Daichi isn’t exactly certain how him agreeing to go on a date with Kuroo and Oikawa had turned into all three of them making out in his apartment post-dinner so quickly or so efficiently but he’s also not really in a position to be complaining.

It’s been seven months since Kuroo promised to buy him a drink and never ended up actually buying him one because he always got too nervous to remember he’d ever made that promise in the first place, and seven months since Oikawa had introduced himself through the desire to sit in his lap before spilling hot coffee on his crotch.

And now, so many months later, he stands pressed back against a wall with Kuroo sucking hickeys in a line down his neck and Oikawa expertly pressing his tongue into Daichi’s mouth. Daichi has a hand on either of their sides and their hands are on him and he’s really struggling with staying upright; he’s incredibly thankful for the wall supporting him.

“You’re so hot,” Oikawa breathes, right into his mouth and over his overly sensitized lips, wet and slick with his and Oikawa’s saliva. Kuroo hums agreeably, one of his hands trailing over Daichi’s broad chest and stopping to tease at a budding nipple. Oikawa’s left hand grips Daichi’s right side to add flare to his words; leans back in and sucks on Daichi’s lower lip with enough ardor to make him blush all the way to the tips of his ears. He makes a gargled sound in his throat, senses too overwhelmed and pulse on overdrive in his veins to even think of forming something coherent to say.

“No but you’re actually really hot. Like temperature-wise.” Kuroo adds, his voice a low scrape against the side of Daichi’s neck. Daichi feels chills rise on the nape of his neck, race down the length of his spine. His fingertips feel electric, the senses there tingling but also a little numb, as though just by touching the two of them his body is changing.

Oikawa hums against his lips, bites down hard enough to make Daichi gasp and turn his head, traces little nibbles along his jawline until he reaches his ear and gives a little tug. Kuroo peppers kisses up his neck and across his cheek until he’s taking control of his lips, kissing him like he’s running out of time. Oikawa licks at the skin behind his ear, delicate and soft, and makes a complacent sound low in his throat when Daichi’s hand slides over his hip and grabs at his ass.

Daichi moans into Kuroo’s lips when Kuroo’s fingers shift from flicking over his nipple to outright squeezing it, then pulling away only to slide his hand under the material of Daichi’s shirt and return to his intended ministrations.

“He’s right,” Oikawa mutters. “You run hot, don’t you?”

“ _Really_  hot,” Kuroo adds, before Daichi can even think to say anything rational. He can feel the heat of his blush pounding in time with his pulse in the tips of his ears, opening his eyes to see Kuroo giving him a doting look, and Oikawa pulling back to mirror it.

Daichi groans, the only noise he can really manage in-between Kuroo pulling on his nipple and Oikawa’s hand slowly inching closer and closer to the waistband of his jeans.

“You’re both idiots,” he grunts, trying to catch his breath. Oikawa laughs, smooth and bubbly and Daichi remembers how easily people fall for him and how easily he gets bored, and yet here he is, seven months later, still as devoted as the day Daichi had met him, still as interested in whatever it is in Daichi that he seems to find worthwhile. 

Kuroo grins at him, shy and gentle but with a wicked gleam in his eyes that makes the baby hairs on the back of Daichi’s neck stand up. Once he’d ascertained that Kuroo was interested in him, he hadn’t really worried—too much—about him losing interest. There’s something about Kuroo that’s reliable, that makes it easy for Daichi and Oikawa both to put their affections in his hands and trust him to keep them safe.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees, simpering. He leans in and presses a kiss to Daichi’s lips that almost seems chaste when compared to those that had come before it. He pulls back and Daichi looks at him with wide eyes, big and expressive like a baby deer’s. He glances over to Oikawa whose hand is still very much dancing on a dangerous line below his navel, and watches him dip forward and kiss the same exact spot, as tender as ever.

Kuroo and Oikawa turn to one another and smile, speculative for only a flicker of a moment before they lean in and kiss each other with the same amount of gentleness, Kuroo leaning back in once more after they pull apart to press one last kiss to Oikawa’s upper lip. Daichi’s cheeks are on fire, even from such a chaste display, but who can honestly blame him? Their hands are still on him and they’re kissing right in front of him, the taste of his lips still on both of theirs, and he can’t help but start to wonder what it’d be like to have other tastes shared amongst the three of them. 

It is this thought, above all else, that tells Daichi he has passed the point of no return.

And it is the feeling in his heart, quite like the feeling he gets when he thinks about his place in the coffee shop—routine and consistent and solely  _his_ —but amplified times the amount of stars in the sky, that tells him that he likes it here.

 

✧

 

Daichi had put a stop to that night before anything  _too_  exciting could happen beyond kissing and minimal touching, mostly because he’d still been a little unsure of how their dynamic was supposed to work. Not long after, though, it became just as routine to press one another up against walls in Daichi’s apartment—why was it always  _his_  apartment?—as it was for the three of them to meet at the coffee shop and discuss the known and unknown universe together.

It does not take long for Daichi to realize how unimportant the schematics of their dynamic are in the face of what they have with each other. He realizes that looking at Oikawa and hearing him laugh makes him feel alive and aflame like ground recently struck by lightning; that seeing Kuroo smile and relax into his custom slouch, reaching out with clear intentions to hold their hands makes him feel grounded and safe and loved in a way that nothing in the world ever has before.

It’s not long after they all first kiss each other that they realize they’re in love and they’re unstoppable.

Almost two months after Kuroo Tetsurou and Oikawa Tooru first taste Sawamura Daichi’s lips, they find themselves in his apartment on a weekend stripping the clothing from his body at his command. He’s already shirtless and Oikawa is currently peeling him out of his jeans when Kuroo gets rid of his own shirt, flinging it into the abyss somewhere over by Daichi’s closet. Oikawa is in nothing more than his black briefs, his pale skin catching and holding the moon’s glow as it comes down through Daichi’s bedroom window.

Kuroo is still in his black jeans but thinking seriously about cutting his way out of them, otherwise he isn’t sure his rapidly growing boner will make the night. Thanks to Oikawa, who seems to have a special  _thing_ for Kuroo’s hair, the strands are all standing up even more than usual, though Kuroo truly doesn’t mind. Not when it means that he gets to have Oikawa’s deft fingers sliding over his scalp, a gentle yet insistent massage.

And besides, he thinks, smiling down at Daichi who has also been ravaged by Oikawa’s apparent thing for running his hands through their hair, he’s not the only one. Though Daichi’s is far shorter, it makes for a world of difference when the static electricity of Oikawa’s fingers had run over his scalp, making his hair far fuzzier than normal and by association, somehow even cuter.

Oikawa’s hair is still floppy and cute and pristine, which Kuroo thinks isn’t quite fair, so he grabs the man in question by the shoulder just as he’s about to dip down and nip at Daichi’s collarbone. He pulls him back so that he’s kneeling with Daichi’s left leg between his thighs, turning curiously over his shoulder in time to meet Kuroo’s adamant lips. He brings his hands up and runs them simultaneously through Oikawa’s hair, swallowing Oikawa’s resulting moan and smirking around the way he gasps Kuroo’s name.

“Yeah,” he says, and pulls back to see Oikawa, a little hazy-eyed and mussed, like a kitten whose fur has been rubbed the wrong way. “Cute.”

Oikawa centers himself again, his smile a slow and underhanded thing. He reaches out, almost carelessly, and runs his fingers over Kuroo’s left peck, letting his fingertips touch lightly over Kuroo’s nipple. Kuroo hisses through his teeth, still looking at Oikawa, watching the way his expressions shift at each new response from Kuroo’s body. Oikawa glances up after a moment and smiles, almost coy, when he sees that Kuroo has been watching.

Oikawa turns back to Daichi, who’s lying there watching them and looking sort of like he’s been hit by a truck. Oikawa frowns, turns fully to him and folds his body over Daichi’s so that their chest are pressing together, Oikawa’s erection pressing against Daichi’s left hip.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, breathing the question against Daichi’s jawline. He barely touches his lips there, lets them ghost along the strong sharp line of his jaw before pulling back and looking into his eyes. Daichi glances from Oikawa’s eyes to Kuroo’s before lifting one of his arms and throwing it over his face to hide the blush that rises.

He says, “You’re both so  _embarrassing_.”

Oikawa, happy to know that nothing is wrong with Daichi but that he’s  _embarrassed_ , turns over his shoulder and shares a conspiratorial look with Kuroo, who returns it in spades. Kuroo unbuttons and unzips his jeans, needing a little bit of relief, before mirroring Oikawa’s position but on the right side of Daichi’s body.

Almost as if on cue, both Kuroo and Oikawa dip down and press their lips to Daichi’s chest, Oikawa kissing at his left nipple and Kuroo licking at his right. Daichi bites his lips, trying to control his breathing and not moan out either of their names. It’s not like he has a problem with showing when he feels pleasure, but the fact that he knows that they’ll both tease him if they think they have an advantage over him is far greater an incentive to try to maintain some semblance of authority in this trio than letting go of his restraint.

Kuroo’s right hand slides down his abs and into the waistband of his briefs in a single breath and Daichi thinks maybe he’s overestimating the strength of his self-control. Oikawa smiles against his skin, he can  _feel_  it, and damn it this is exactly what he was talking about!

“Shut up,” he grits through clenched teeth, still hiding under his arm. He doesn’t care that neither of them had been speaking, doesn’t care that technically you can’t silence a  _smile_. What he does care about, more than the self-consciousness and the surefire way that he will make himself an easier target for the both of them, is being unable to see their faces as they love on him.

Swallowing his pride, he moves his arm out of the way and is immediately met with burning ochre eyes as Oikawa licks over his darkened nipple, no longer smiling, no longer playful. He barely manages to glance away because Kuroo’s fingers are now pulling at the waistband of his briefs as if to rid him of them completely. Kuroo glances up from the section of Daichi’s ribs he’s been sucking at and waits until Oikawa glances his way. Daichi watches with muted fascination and a little more than an average dose of curiosity as they speak to each other with smirks and raised brows, both of them crawling back and off of his body at the same time.

“Sawamura,” Oikawa sings, his dangerous grin returning in full. Daichi feels his pulse beating actively in his chest, his temperature rising the longer he lays under their heated gazes. “Do us a favor?”

A little unnerved, he asks, “What?”

“Roll over,” Kuroo blurts, and Daichi wonders if he should be turned on or offended that Kuroo is treating him like a dog. He’s not going to admit which one wins out but it’s pretty frickin’ obvious.

Slow enough that he’s certain he’d lose a race against a snail, Daichi sits up on the bed and takes a moment to eye the both of them with one hand supporting him and the other sitting inconspicuously in his lap in an attempt to hide how hard he is. Oikawa, smiling at his agreeable reaction, tilts his head and turns to Kuroo with a gleam in his eyes that takes Daichi’s breath away.

He reaches over and touches three fingers to the outer hinge of Kuroo’s jaw, encourages Kuroo to look his way, and leans forward to press their lips together. The kiss doesn’t last very long; Oikawa pulls back just as Kuroo really starts to get into it, passionately biting at Oikawa’s bottom lip and following after him when he pulls away. Oikawa, having none of it, turns his head and dips around until his lips are against Kuroo’s throat and his hands are tilting Kuroo’s head up skyward so that he has an easier time of it. Kuroo groans, his hands reaching out to pull Oikawa’s body closer, wanting him to press harder and reach the spot just below his ear where his jaw hinges.

Oikawa drags the edges of his teeth along that hinge, smiling when Kuroo releases a tiny mewl, quite like a cat. For his part, Daichi watches Oikawa work on Kuroo’s neck and feels his cock twitch in his briefs, remembers that they’re waiting on him and debates whether he’d rather sit here and continue to watch this unfold or complete their request and head blindly into the scary but promising unknown.

He chooses a middle ground; waits until Kuroo pulls Oikawa into his lap and starts moving their hips together, reminding Daichi of so long ago when Oikawa had wanted to straddle  _him_  and if this is what it would’ve been like. He’s almost given up on following through with the whole promising unknown path, happy to just watch and touch himself through his briefs while Kuroo encourages Oikawa’s flexing hips to push their erections together, but Oikawa seems dead set on getting his way.

This is neither surprising nor upsetting.

Oikawa pulls back from Kuroo’s insistent lips and breathes, “Wait.”

Kuroo freezes, looking surprised to have gotten lost in the movements of Oikawa’s body, in the alluring taste of his lips. Oikawa leans forward and kisses that shy expression off his face, doting on him and for once appearing as though he doesn’t want Kuroo to be embarrassed. Daichi’s responding thought: where the hell is that sweet mercy when he’s involved?

Almost as if his thoughts have summoned him, Oikawa presses his forehead to Kuroo’s and turns to look at Daichi, his smile close enough to a sneer to be near threatening. Daichi decides that this is as good a sign as any he’s going to get; he completes his turn and stops on all fours, a little confused on where to go from here.

“Such a good boy,” Oikawa croons, immediately jumping back on the Daichi-as-doggy train that Kuroo singlehandedly created.

“Fuck you, Tooru.” Daichi immediately snaps, turning every shade of red. Kuroo makes a placating sound; somewhere between a laugh and a soothing coo that has Daichi feeling both turned on and scolded. What is  _with_  all of these dog euphemisms?

“That’s the plan,” Oikawa sings, and Daichi hears Kuroo mutter something low and out of his reach.

“Eventually,” Oikawa corrects himself, reproached. “Definitely eventually.”

There’s movement behind him that has him curious, so Daichi hangs his head low and looks between his legs and forgets how to breathe. Kuroo and Oikawa both are sitting back on their heels, rubbing a hand over their own erections through the material of their clothes, simply staring at Daichi’s ass raised up in the air in front of them. There isn’t a chance in the world that Daichi can blush more than he is right now and he feels a bead of sweat drip down his sideburn and onto his sheets.

Kuroo moves first, lifting himself up and moving forward to slip his fingers into the waistband of Daichi’s briefs, peeling the material off of him like he’s something to be treasured. Daichi rests his head down on his crossed forearms and tries to relearn how to breathe as Kuroo slides his briefs down and over his ass, his thighs, his calves, and then carefully off of each foot. He hears both of them inhale, Oikawa cursing under his breath as Kuroo throws his briefs across the room. Daichi is fairly certain he’s never going to find them again. 

“Do you trust us?” Kuroo asks, and Daichi opens his eyes and looks down the length of his body, past his flushed erection to where he can see Oikawa and Kuroo leaning down so he can see them. He bites his lip, nods his head and says, “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

“Good boy,” Kuroo whispers, and it’s the start of something Daichi never could’ve prepared himself for.

There’s a lot of movement behind him that he can’t distinguish, not now that his face is tucked carefully into the curve of his elbow. He feels someone’s hands spread his thighs wider and can barely breathe around the knowledge of all that they’re seeing down there, of all that they’re thinking about  _doing_. When the movements quiet down a bit and he feels the ghost of a breath against the head of his cock and then a second later, his asshole, his eyes open so wide and so fast he gets a little dizzy.

When he looks down again he sees Oikawa on his back underneath him, smiling up at him and winking before putting his left hand on Daichi’s right flank and letting his right hand wrap around the base of his cock. He brings Daichi’s cockhead to his mouth, still looking upside down at him and smirking like the idiot he is, and then he’s bending forward and pressing a tender kiss to Daichi’s slit. Daichi isn’t sure Oikawa’s safe in his current position, not if Daichi’s legs give out, and he says as much.

Kuroo laughs, literally laughs out loud. Oikawa smiles like he’s got sunshine trapped behind his teeth, squeezes Daichi’s right thigh a little and says, “You have the strongest thighs I’ve ever seen. I trust you.”

“Quit worrying, Sawamura.” Kuroo says from behind him, and there’s the sound of a tube being opened. Daichi knows what it is, expects it, even, but the icy coldness of it when Kuroo spreads it over his crease surprises him enough that his hips buck. It makes his cock jerk against Oikawa’s lips and the brunette  _laughs_.

“Yes, yes,” he says quietly, almost to himself, though he doesn’t make a move. Daichi wonders what he’s waiting for even as he continues to try to keep his breathing in check, struggling as Kuroo’s fingers spread the lube generously and playfully tease at him. He glances down and sees Oikawa giving Kuroo this look, patient and waiting to be given the okay, and it’s like a line of dominoes all start to fall in a spiral in his mind.

They are working together.

All this time, from the moment their rivalry began to the moment he’d quashed the animosity between them and made them allies, they have been working together to get him here, so deeply in love with them that he’s willing to not only sit with his ass high in the air for them but to let them tease him until he’s a quivering puddle in their hands.

They’ve been  _double teaming_ him.

Now more so than ever, he supposes.

Sawamura Daichi does not say a single word. He is a simple man; he has simple tastes. He tucks the smile that rises onto his face into the crook of his elbow and feels a little like laughing. As Kuroo squirts more lube onto his fingers and says, “Ready, Sawamura?” he wonders when they’d realized how beneficial for all of them it’d be to just  _share_  each other.

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice catching on an inhale when Kuroo’s finger slides down the cleft between his cheeks and gently pushes in. Around the same time, Oikawa’s tongue comes out to lick away the first bead of precome from his slit, humming happily around the taste of it. He continues to lap at Daichi’s cockhead, at the underside of it and then down the base, scrunching up his abs to reach as far as possible while Kuroo works first one and then two fingers into Daichi's ass. He presses a third in before Daichi’s completely ready for it, but the hot stretch of it and the slight pain only makes his cock twitch against Oikawa’s mouth.

Oikawa gasps a little, very quietly, and says, “Yeah. Keep doing that, Kuroo.”

“Mm,” Kuroo hums, working his fingers a little harder and opening them more often than not, eager to please. Daichi bites out a low moan against his muscled forearm, unable to keep it in. Oikawa’s breath is coming in hot puffs against his cock and Kuroo’s fingers are long and thick and they’re going  _deep_.

It feels like Kuroo fingers him for hours before he’s finally pulling his fingers out and Daichi expects the immediate press of his cock against him, he  _wants_  it, but there’s a moment of silence, as Oikawa distractedly licks up the base of Daichi’s cock once more, pauses for a moment and repeats the gesture, and then Kuroo curses.

“Houston,” he says, groaning. “We have a problem.”

“Are you already seeing stars?” Oikawa asks, making the pun none of them asked for while backing off of Daichi’s dick to peek over at Kuroo, immediately seeing the problem. Kuroo is still in his jeans and now he has a hand covered in lube to prevent him from efficiently getting out of them. Oikawa doesn’t bother offering his help, not from his position. So instead, Daichi tries to make his lungs work properly and tries  _so hard_  not to move his hips, eager and frustrated and  _wanting_  but he fails miserably.

Oikawa catches on pretty quick when Daichi presses his hips down and his cockhead against Oikawa’s lips. Oikawa smiles and says, “Minor change in plans.”

And then he wraps his lips around Daichi and starts to  _suck_  and if Daichi had thought he was doing a poor job of keeping his hips in check before, well.

Kuroo grunts and Daichi can only just barely feel the movement of him flailing around trying to get his skinny jeans off of his erection and the long length of his legs; he’s too engrossed in how good Oikawa is at sucking his cock and how the hand still wrapped around the base of him moves in perfect sync with his mouth as he bobs up and down and lets Daichi’s cockhead touch the back of his throat to notice much else.

Oikawa only allows that a few times, though, and Daichi can tell he’s waiting for Kuroo—that he wants this to be an efficient double-teaming effort. Daichi is torn between the happiness that this is probably the purest form of proof that Kuroo and Oikawa truly love each other and no longer have hostility for one another anymore and the eye-twitching irritation that accompanies the knowledge that Daichi is going to have to deal with  _so much_  teasing in the future because of it.

Well, that’s fine. Simple he may be, but Sawamura Daichi has a few tricks up his sleeve as well—they hadn’t called him the cunning type in high school for nothing.

Kuroo, finally naked with his cock straining up just under his navel, straddles Oikawa’s hips and puts both of his hands on Daichi’s cheeks. Oikawa is the only one still wearing his briefs, which Daichi does not feel bad about  _at all_  because he’s done the most teasing tonight and he deserves some small payment for it.

Kuroo presses himself down low so that his cock is pressed to Oikawa’s through the material of his briefs, making the brunette shudder beneath him. Daichi is biting his lip so hard he might draw blood when he feels Kuroo spread his cheeks wide and then the brief yet hot exhale of his breath right over him.

“Quit teasing me and just  _do it_ ,” Daichi grits, and thinks  _don’t bite the hand that feeds you_  before shifting his arms a little so that they don’t fall asleep. Oikawa laughs, pressing kisses along the length of him and lifting his hips up a bit into Kuroo so that he can feel how hard he is. Kuroo wastes no time in accommodating him.

He teases Daichi with his finger and then replaces it with his tongue, licking at the edges and listening to the way Daichi keens. When Kuroo pulls back, Daichi makes a breathy, broken sound, full of regret. Daichi can smell something sweet and fruity in the air and flushes hot when he realizes that it must be the lubricant. He hopes Kuroo had the mind to order the edible kind.

“Smells good,” Oikawa gasps distractedly, trying to catch his breath as he pulls himself away from Daichi’s cock, working it a few times almost absentmindedly with his hand. Daichi’s thigh muscles twitch and he flexes his hips back towards Kuroo, a silent plea he refuses to verbalize.

“ _Tastes_ good,” Kuroo grins, leaning forward again and sliding his tongue in one long lick along the line of Daichi’s ass, closing his eyes and smiling when Daichi moans long and low.

“Lucky,” Oikawa pouts, before carefully licking the underside of Daichi’s cockhead and Daichi, for all he’s worth, thinks that he’s not going to survive this.

“Both of you, shut  _up_ ,” he groans but there’s no strength to it, not when he’s putting all of his might into holding himself up and not collapsing on top of Oikawa. Oikawa’s mouth surrounds him and Kuroo’s tongue enters him and somewhere deep inside of his lower abdomen he feels the very strands holding him together starting to unwind.

“ _Oh_ ,” he moans, as Kuroo laps at him and then slowly pushes his tongue inside. Oikawa’s pace is steady and his passion evident as he continues to suck Daichi in. He can feel tingles starting to bubble up somewhere inside his skin and his arms unfold and grasp the sheets of his bed as Kuroo’s tongue continues to fuck into him, his hands spreading his cheeks and kneading the skin while Oikawa works his cock with his mouth and his hand, pulling him closer with the hand on Daichi’s thigh.

Daichi’s hips are moving enough to make things difficult on Oikawa, though he has no complaints about it, trying his best to move with them and take as much of Daichi in as he can. Kuroo is following every movement too, switching between long slow licks along the line of him and quick penetrating laps in and out of him until Daichi’s back is arching and he’s moaning loader than he has all night, his body quivering and his eyes squeezing shut around stars.

He comes in Oikawa’s mouth and just barely manages to keep himself from collapsing on top of him.

“Good boy,” Kuroo says, sounding a little strained but mostly delighted.

Daichi ignores the remark and feels Oikawa’s mouth slide off of him, his head falling back against the bed as he swallows.

“ _Does_  taste good,” he whispers hotly, and Kuroo and Daichi both groan.

“Lucky,” Kuroo mutters, mimicking Oikawa’s earlier pout. Daichi wants to throttle both of them.

Oikawa grins up at Daichi before Kuroo reaches down and grabs Oikawa’s hips, pulling him out from under Daichi and helping him sit up and flex his back muscles a little. Daichi collapses against the blankets the moment Oikawa is clear; his body feels heavy and sated and well loved and he’s still trying to catch his breath.

When he glances over his shoulder, curious as to how Oikawa and Kuroo are planning on dealing with their untouched erections now that he’s clearly out of commission, he finds Oikawa once again in Kuroo’s lap, legs wrapped around him with both of their cocks in one of Kuroo’s hands. He strokes them slowly for a moment and both of them look over at Daichi with similarly doting expressions, though Oikawa’s is a little special because he still has some of Daichi’s come on his lips.

Daichi gives them a look they both understand to mean that they’re testing his limits and the scoundrels merely smirk at him, Kuroo lifting a hand to turn Oikawa’s face back in his direction. He leans forward and licks Daichi’s come from Oikawa’s lips and even though he honestly hadn’t thought himself capable of anything else, Daichi feels his cock twitch at the sight.

Oikawa licks his lips afterwards, leaning in and smiling into the kiss when Kuroo pushes their tongues together and Oikawa gets a taste of Daichi and the edible lubricant smeared all over Kuroo’s face. He’s a goddamn mess, Daichi thinks, but every time he remembers how he  _got_  that way he can’t move on any further.

“Oh,” Oikawa chirps, pulling back from the kiss and securing his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders. “I recognize this one.”

Kuroo’s eyes go wide before he finds himself laughing, turning to give Daichi a look like he can’t believe what kind of dangerous treasure they’d both stumbled upon in Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa squeezes himself closer to Kuroo, hugging him and looking over at Daichi with a smirk.

 “Climax Fruit Bomb. Blue raspberry flavored.” Oikawa winks, his smile utterly self-satisfied. He turns back to Kuroo and looks at him fondly, saying, “An  _excellent_  choice.”

Daichi’s body is so exhausted after having been played and teased and, honestly, cherished for so long, so he just watches them as they make out while Kuroo strokes both of their cocks together, his eyes heavy and half-lidded. Oikawa is the first to come, up and onto Kuroo’s chest with a light, airy cry he tries to bury in the side of Kuroo’s throat. Kuroo comes soon after and doesn’t even try to hide his expression or the groan that resonates through his throat and into the open air between them.

They fall against one another, trying to catch their breath. Eventually, when they want to get comfortable, they pull away and crawl up the length of the bed, Kuroo coming up behind Daichi and wrapping an arm around his waist while Oikawa snuggles in against Daichi’s chest, wrapping Daichi’s arm around him and pulling the blanket up and over all of them.

“My sheets are going to be filthy.” Daichi says, to no one in particular. Both of his boyfriends hum agreeably. Daichi sighs, blaming his next statement on the post-coital glow he’s currently feeling all the way to his bones. “I’m really glad to have you both.”

“Oh,” Oikawa snorts, nuzzling against Daichi’s sheets. “You’ll  _have_  us, alright.”

“Oikawa, shut up.”

“You really know how to ruin a moment.” Kuroo huffs, his breath moving the short strands of Daichi’s hair and making him shiver a little, even though his skin is still hot to the touch and he feels like he’s burning.

“Whatever, you both love me.” Oikawa sniffs, carefully pushing back a little more into Daichi’s heat. Daichi pulls him in, accommodates his need for cuddling because honestly, Daichi needs it too. His left hand is bent a little between them so he reaches up slightly and interlaces his and Kuroo’s fingers, more than comfortable to be wrapped up in-between the two of them.

“Don’t know why,” Daichi says, and Kuroo grunts in agreement. Oikawa hums pleasantly, content with this answer, at least for now.

They fall asleep that way, Oikawa first, and then Kuroo, and Daichi last of all, dreaming of resilient red strings wrapping the three of them together, skin to skin, hearts to hearts, a tale as old as time.

 

✧

 

“So how exactly did you two go about getting so friendly?” Daichi asks on another fine morning, sitting in his favorite spot in his favorite shop with his favorite two idiot boyfriends. He scowls at them, already pressed at their antics this morning. He has to put his foot down somewhere, and sexual intercourse in the bathroom of his favorite coffee shop is where he’s drawing the line. For good.

(Or maybe for now)

Kuroo’s eyes turn sharp and wicked, telling of past indiscretions he still finds amusing. Oikawa’s got a similar look going on, turning to Kuroo and resting his cheek in his hand as he fondly says, “Oh, you tell him honey. You tell it better.”

Kuroo laughs, shaking his head and sitting back in his seat with arms crossed over his shoulders. He glances at Daichi and looks a little more pathetic than he had a moment prior.

“We may have…tortured one another for a few weeks out of jealousy. I think the word sabotage was used pretty frequently.”

“Okay never mind you suck ass—literally, and I’m not holding that against you because you have wonderful technique—but mostly at telling stories.” Oikawa jumps in, eyes bright and excited about jumping into territory unknown to Daichi. Kuroo flushes bright red but only smiles at Oikawa, oddly fond. Oikawa turns to Daichi and grins like wildfire.

“Literally every day for like two solid weeks we would pull pranks on each other. The goal was for each of us to ruin or completely interrupt the time we had with you without  _actually_  showing up and revealing the fact that at one point I almost died trying to stay in the running.”

“ _Seriously_ ,” Kuroo groans, smile falling and throwing his head back and exhaling in exasperation. He looks back up with narrowed eyes, scowling at Oikawa. “You did not almost die.”

“You left me outside naked as my name day while it was  _snowing_. Luckily some kind patrons in uniforms were willing to help me out,” Oikawa sniffs, turning away with arms crossed over his chest. Daichi holds a hand up, eyes bright and thoughts spinning.

“Wait a minute, why were you naked? And are you saying you were  _arrested_?” he asks, and he turns an amused grin up at Kuroo, who is practically bursting at the seams to explain. Oikawa groans.

“They released me the same night, it doesn’t really count.” Oikawa hedges, and at the exact same time Daichi and Kuroo both respond, “Yeah it does.”

Kuroo snorts before cryptically saying, “I have really awesome timing.” Oikawa groans louder, trying to drown him out.

“I waited until he’d just gotten out of the shower before sliding a letter under his door that might encourage him to head outside in a hasty manner.”

Oikawa slams a hand down on the table, scowling.

“He used aliens against me,” he says, looking at Daichi with wild eyes. “The letter was anonymous and it said that aliens have been spotted out in the quad but looked like they were packing up and heading off—what was I  _supposed_  to do? Put on my best outfit for them? That actually might’ve been nice but I was in a  _hurry_. Besides, they probably don’t even know about or care for human ideals of clothing or modesty.”

“So let me get this straight,” Daichi says, forcing a neutral tone though he wants to laugh more than anything. “You ran out of your apartment butt-ass naked into the snow because you thought aliens were on our university campus.”

“Yeah!” Oikawa says, like it’s obvious that was definitely the best option.

Kuroo’s sitting there drinking in Daichi’s expression, and the smug nature of his grin coupled with the sheer idiocy of Oikawa’s antics has Daichi bursting out laughing, holding his sides and feeling tears form in his eyes. His laughter is a thunderous boom in his normally quiet coffee shop and he feels sort of bad about it but when he opens his eyes again Oikawa looks so  _put out_  and Kuroo’s laughing too and he can’t help but laugh even more.

By the time he gets control of himself and tries to regain his breath, Oikawa is pouting and Kuroo has an arm wrapped around his shoulders, trying to comfort him even with that self-righteous smirk on his face.

“Fuck you guys,” Oikawa snaps, voice low, lips pursed. “So rude.”

“Do I even want to know what kind of payback that prompted?” Daichi asks, wiping tears away. Oikawa’s eyes like up bright like hellfire and Kuroo groans from the pit of his stomach.

“ _No_ ,” Kuroo says emphatically, and Oikawa laughs, “Oh,  _yes_.”

Daichi listens to not only the incredibly disturbing story of payback that ensued after the naked in the snow incident, but several others that, had they been told by anyone else on the planet, he probably would not have believed. But because it is Kuroo and Oikawa, he believes every word of their retellings and feels like maybe he’s been luckier than he originally thought.

Maybe the teasing that he’s been on the receiving end of has been a blessing compared to what  _could have been_. Kuroo and Oikawa look like they’re having war flashbacks as they recount the things that they had done to one another before deciding one day to call a truce, at Daichi’s insistence. His words had been the start to something new and beautiful and so  _promising_  that neither Kuroo nor Oikawa could deny wanting to go along with it.

They didn’t seal the end of their rivalry and the beginning of their teamwork with a handshake like people usually do; no, Kuroo and Oikawa sealed it with a kiss.

And then they worked together to find a way into the warm space of Daichi’s life, becoming so familiar to him that he can no longer wake up in the morning without wondering where they are.

To Daichi, Kuroo and Oikawa are still kind of like stars—gassy and strange and sometimes so far away he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to reach them; but mostly they are bright and hot and they light up his world even when it’s shrouded in darkness. The way he feels about them, the celestial comparisons even while they tether him to the Earth so he doesn’t lose himself—It’s all science.

He kind of loves them.

It’s science.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to apologize to pretty much everyone, but most of all, to Sawamura Daichi. Be strong for mother, Sawamura


End file.
